


En Garde

by Heather_Night



Series: Shifter Criminal Investigative Service [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Bullying, College Student Stiles, Hurt/Comfort, Law Enforcement, M/M, POV Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2017-12-22
Packaged: 2019-02-18 07:34:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13095405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heather_Night/pseuds/Heather_Night
Summary: Usually it was the third date when things went to hell for Stiles.  Maybe he tried too hard or maybe he just wasn’t that likeable but usually after meeting up one-on-one for the third time the person he was interested in either gave him the ‘let’s be friends’ speech or they lost his number.This time felt different but Stiles tried to tamp down on his soaring hopes. Peter was an off-the-scales out-of-his-league level of hot, and he was also smart, accomplished and older.  What did he see in a spaz like Stiles?





	En Garde

**Author's Note:**

> This is the next installment in the four-part Shifter Criminal Investigative Service 'verse and the hurt/comfort prompt I was working with was bullying. 
> 
> If you feel I need to update my tags please let me know. This installment still has the Mature rating and (I think) features the same level of violence as show.

Stiles could admit he was nervous. He’d been on two dates with Peter—they’d met for coffee and then lunch—and so far the other man still seemed interested.

Usually it was the third date when things went to hell for Stiles. Maybe he tried too hard or maybe he just wasn’t that likeable but usually after meeting up one-on-one for the third time the person he was interested in either gave him the ‘let’s be friends’ speech or they lost his number.

This time felt different but Stiles tried to tamp down on his soaring hopes. Peter was an off-the-scales out-of-his-league level of hot, and he was also smart, accomplished and older. What did he see in a spaz like Stiles?

Their meeting had certainly been unorthodox. Although Stiles had been aware of the other man when he’d passed by him in the coffee shop, it wasn’t until both men had been knocked out and placed behind a Mountain Ash barrier in some basement before they’d officially met. Whoever had taken them hadn’t seemed to know Stiles’s one talent was manipulating Mountain Ash and they’d easily escaped.

The escape had led to coffee, which led to…whatever was going on now.

Stiles face palmed as soon as his elbow hit the tabletop, his hand stretched over his face, sitting at the picnic table on campus where he’d be able to see Peter’s approach. 

He was overthinking things, as usual. He needed to adjust his thinking because this wasn’t any different than any other time Stiles got interested in someone romantically. He had better enjoy this meal because it would probably be the last time he saw Peter.

Something smacked the back of Stiles’s head and if he hadn’t been braced in mid face palm, he probably would’ve gone face first into the table. He swiveled around to find Donovan Donati smirking down at him.

Great, just what he needed.

“What’s the matter, Stilinski, are you all alone again?” The dark haired guy from some of his undergrad classes threw out bad vibes left and right.

Stiles squared his shoulders and looked around surreptitiously. If Donovan turned up the harassment there really wasn’t anyone around to intervene. Stiles could hold his own in a fight but there was something about Donovan…

A car Stiles didn’t recognize pulled to a stop on the road in front of the cluster of tables. If Stiles was correct it was a Ford Mustang Shelby GT350 in a shade called Grabber Blue. Stiles knew this because it was a very close match to Stiles’s beloved Jeep and he may have salivated over pictures he’d found online.

The car honked.

Without a word, Stiles rose to his feet and headed toward the car. He could feel Donovan’s glare between his shoulder blades but he wasn’t going to let his nemesis prevent him from enjoying the sight of Peter stepping out of the car, leaning an arm on the roof and smiling at Stiles with sunglasses perched on his nose.

Peter resembled a movie star. He was also an investigator with the Shifter Criminal Investigative Service; SCIS was where Stiles wanted to get a job one day. What was Peter doing with Stiles, a deeply in debt student with little else to recommend him?

“What do you think of her?” Peter rubbed the surface of his roof lovingly, claiming Stiles’s full attention.

“She’s absolutely beautiful. Shelby Charger?” Stiles admired both the car and its driver.

Peter’s smile turned up a notch. “You know something about cars?”

Stiles shrugged. “I know what I like.”

“Good to know,” Peter purred; he made the phrase sound mildly kinky. The other man continued, “Well climb in. I thought we’d get dinner at a Mexican restaurant I know across town.” Peter patted the roof one more time before disappearing back into the car.

Stiles set his backpack at his feet and took his time buckling up. He didn’t want to hurry the evening along.

Once he was settled he looked toward Peter who was staring at him. “Was that my competition back there? He seemed rather interested in you.”

Barking laughter with a slight hysterical edge to it, Stiles looked away from the other man. “The opposite I would say. Donovan can’t stand my guts.”

Peter’s hand reached over and squeezed Stiles’s thigh. It was simultaneously comforting and pulse raising. “His loss is my gain.”

That didn’t sound like the prelude to a kiss-off. Stiles felt the heat spreading down his face and neck. He needed a distraction. “So Mexican, huh? I love Mexican.”

“I know. You mentioned something when we went for coffee. Have you ever been to Don Pistos on Union?” Peter darted in front of another vehicle as their lanes merged into one. He did it so smoothly Stiles had barely noticed they were leaving the campus. Come to think of it, Peter did everything smoothly.

Stiles cleared his throat. “No, I’ve never had the chance.” He didn’t mention it was out of his price range. He’d checked the menu out once and the cheapest item was $11. That was the equivalent of at least 60 packs of ramen noodles if he hit the right sale. 

“It’s a lively exposed-brick setting and if you like seafood they have a lovely Sashimi with Loch Duarte salmon.” Peter was a bit of a foodie, at least that’s the sense Stiles had gotten after the man had launched into a description of the proper way to prepare a steak. Stiles’s dad just threw some rub on the meat and slapped it onto the grill. 

Seafood wasn’t Stiles’s favorite food—he’d been known to suffer from an upset stomach after eating shrimp so he just avoided it all together—but since having a conversation required both parties participate, he blurted the first thing that came to mind. “I’m a bit of meat lover. I prefer beef.”

Peter bit his lip and Stiles wished he could crawl into the glove box. That sounded like a come-on and the sad thing was, Stiles hadn’t meant it as such. He had like zero game when it came to flirting.

The other man reached over and grabbed Stiles’s hand, linking their fingers together. “They have an excellent carne asada meal among other things.”

Some of Stiles’s embarrassment faded but Peter held fast to his hand. He still wasn’t going to get his hopes up but so far things were going okay.

Union Street was abuzz with activity but once again, Peter navigated the streets and traffic expertly, parking the Shelby Charger in an expensive parking structure.

Stiles foot became entangled in his backpack straps in the footwell but Peter got him free and lifted him out of the car. He was on the verge of apologizing for being such a klutz but Peter just wrapped his arm around his shoulders, and guided him toward the sidewalk.

“So Stiles, you know my senses are heightened, right?” Peter’s voice was so sexy and he could listen to it all day.

Oh, yeah, conversation going on here. Stiles needed to respond. “Sure. Your frequency range and distance are superior to a human’s hearing. Your sense of smell is ten times stronger than a human’s. And don’t get me started on your extra sensory perception.”

Silence greeted his information vomit. 

Stiles cringed inward.

“Hey, none of that. Your breadth of knowledge is astounding to me and I don’t think I’ll eve tire of hearing you speak of werewolf gifts with the high degree of awe and respect you display.” Peter pulled Stiles closer to his side and Stiles stumbled. The other man easily corrected his gait and they continued on more smoothly.

Stiles smiled, hiding his face in Peter’s shoulder.

Peter continued his thread of conversation. “The reason I mentioned the heightened senses was because I could tell something was amiss when you mentioned that Donovan person. I was hoping you would share with me what’s wrong.”

Oh. 

Stiles didn’t want to dwell on Donovan Donati.

Peter waited. Patiently. The silence stretched along with Stiles’s nerves. Peter’s arm around his shoulder kept him close by, moving them down the sidewalk, otherwise Stiles might’ve made a run for it.

Ugh. He caved. Eventually Peter would find out he was a loser so Stiles might as well just put it out there. Clearing his throat nervously, Stiles tried to explain the weird relationship he had with the guy he’d had in some of his classes. “Donovan Donati was in a few of my undergrad criminal justice classes. He just really, really doesn’t like me.”

Stiles omitted the part about how he aced the classes they shared but Donovan struggled with the coursework. Or how Donovan could be really obnoxious to the other students and Stiles might’ve verbally sparred a time or two with him, at least until he’d decided the other guy was unhinged.

“Hmmm. This other student really upsets you. Is there anything I can do about him?” Peter guided them around another couple on the sidewalk and Stiles saw the sign for Don Pistos. Finally.

“Thanks, Peter. You don’t have to worry about me.” Stiles had been watching his own six since he’d moved to San Francisco for school.

They stopped by the door of the restaurant to let some patrons file out. Peter pressed a kiss to his forehead, a rather paternal gesture in Stiles’s opinion, but Peter also squeezed the curve of his waist in a decidedly non-parental maneuver. Peter spoke quietly into his ear, “I do worry about you but I’ll respect your wishes on the condition you let me know if things get worse.”

Stiles burrowed his face into the side of Peter’s neck for a moment, both because he wanted the contact and he needed a moment to gain his composure. “Thanks, Peter.”

With a final squeeze to his waist, Peter opened the door and they entered the restaurant. 

Stiles wasn’t sure why, but it sounded like Peter was interested in hanging around. Now he just needed to relax and enjoy the evening.

With a little luck there’d be plenty of time to second-guess things down the road.

-0-

Stiles hustled down the stairwell of the library’s east corner. He’d lost track of time, immersed in his reading on Ethics in Interspecies Criminal Justice. It wasn’t until his phone buzzed a text from Peter that he’d realized he was late and his boyfriend—he’d never get tired of using that term—was waiting for him downstairs.

With one hand grasping the left strap of his pack for stabilization, and his other quickly tapping out a return message on his phone, Stiles didn’t have any hands available for bracing himself when he ran into an immovable object.

_Oomph._ Stiles actually stumbled back a pace and shook his head.

Donovan stood before him on the landing between floors, arms crossed over his chest. Instead of a smirk on his face, his mouth was pressed into a straight line. 

Normally Stiles would apologize for running into someone but he’d been on the right side of the stairwell and Donovan had planted himself in his path on purpose, of that Stiles was certain. Stiles kept his phone clutched in his hand but waited out the other guy.

The other guy’s hand darted out and clamped on to Stiles’s right wrist. 

“Hey!” Stiles pulled his arm back but the other guy was tenacious. “What the fuck?”

A door on one of the floors swung open with a loud squeak. “Stiles?”

Peter was here.

The breath Stiles didn’t even know he’d been holding released.

Donovan scowled but dropped his hold. He stomped away, upward and away, looking like a child whose toy had been taken from him.

Before Stiles could process what had happened, his boyfriend appeared at his side. “Stiles, what’s wrong?”

Stiles opened his mouth to reply with his stock answer of nothing but there had to be chemosignals all over the stairway telegraphing both Stiles’s distress at the confrontation and whatever the hell had been going on with Donovan. Peter knew something was up otherwise he wouldn’t have come looking for him.

Wait, how _had_ Peter known Stiles was in trouble?

Finally Stiles’s brain rebooted and that’s what he went with. “How did you know I needed you?” 

“I could see you were texting an answer back but you never sent it. I also got the sense something was going on. What happened? Why are you out of breath and pale?” Peter gently clutched Stiles’s upper arms and visually checked him over.

Stiles tucked his phone into his pocket and now that both hands were free, he planted them both on the front of Peter’s dark gray Henley, craving contact. “I ran into someone on the stairwell. Literally.”

“It was that Donovan Donati, wasn’t it?” Peter’s shrewd blue eyes narrowed as he stared into Stiles’s face.

“It was and it was weird. He didn’t say anything. He just planted himself on the stairs and I ran into him and then he stared at me.” Stiles’s attention strayed to his right wrist where Donovan had manhandled him.

Peter zeroed in on Stiles’s wrist and his face blanched. “He touched you?” His boyfriend’s hands dropped from his upper arms and cradled the bruised joint gently. 

Stiles watched, fascinated, as inky black vines climbed up Peter’s hands and disappeared beneath his shirt. “I didn’t even notice the pain but thank you.”

The other man drew Stiles forward into his arms and hugged him. Peter’s nose dipped to the hollow behind Stiles’s right ear and nuzzled. “Are you okay?”

Peter’s voice was gravelly and Stiles wondered if he was shifting. He knew a thing or two about the protective urges werewolves had, mainly through watching how Scott behaved with his girlfriends. He didn’t know if that differed between born wolves and bitten and he’d like to ask Peter questions about it but right now he let his weight sink into the protection of Peter’s arms. “I’m okay. He just startled me.”

“He did more than that. He laid his hands on you and that’s not acceptable.” Peter leaned back and with his index finger he raised Stiles’s chin until they made eye contact. “What does your Alpha say about this?”

Stiles’s face screwed up. “Um, I don’t really think of Scott as my alpha. He’s my friend. But he doesn’t know Donovan’s been hassling me. I, uh, had some issues in high school with bullies but I took care of it myself. I don’t really need anyone to fight my battles for me.” 

That was actually a bit of a sore point for Stiles; he could’ve used some help back when Jackson and his cronies were making life tough for him but Scott had been ‘in love’ and was pretty much useless there for a while. 

Whatever, Stiles had figured out that becoming friends with Jackson’s girlfriend would put an end to those shenanigans. Unfortunately Stiles hadn’t seen Donovan interact with anyone in a remotely friendly way—the guy’s picture was probably in the dictionary next to the word contentious—so he’d have to find another way.

His boyfriend’s mellow voice interrupted his thoughts. “There’s something that’s not settling right about this, Stiles. The levels of aggression in the air…I think we’re missing something. Do you mind if I do some digging into this?”

His stomach chose that moment to growl loudly. Stiles shrugged, embarrassed by the noise and the fact Donovan was being an asshat.

Peter chucked him under the chin lightly. “Thank you. Now let’s get going. A new restaurant opened up and I think you’ll really like it.”

Stiles was happy to put the scene in the stairwell behind him. He was going to have to step up his situational awareness game to avoid similar confrontations.

At least until he got a handle on this mess.

-0-

Stiles had a lot on his mind.

He had to turn in the outline on his thesis and he couldn’t even narrow down the subject of his dissertation. There was so much he was interested in when it came to Supernatural Studies that this was turning into a monumental task.

In the midst of the outline angst, Donovan had taken to showing up at the places Stiles liked to frequent, like the library and the coffee shop. So far the jerk had stuck to glaring and a few verbal jabs that might’s been hurtful if Stiles cared about his opinion, but at least the physical threats had remained dormant. Unfortunately it seemed like it was just a matter of time before they bubbled over.

Then there was Peter. It seemed as though the other guy was holding back when it came to their relationship. So far they’d restricted their dates to restaurants but other than some hugging and light nuzzling, their physical relationship remained platonic.

It’s not like Stiles was well versed when it came to sex with a guy—although he’d known he was bi since sophomore year of high school he’d only gotten past three dates with one person, Malia, and she’d been the aggressor in the relationship. When her interest in Scott manifested Stiles’s ego had suffered but his back had finally healed from her scratches. Although Malia was a born werecoyote, she was more in tune with her shifter side and that had presented some unique issues in their relationship.

In any case, Stiles was getting a bit sexually frustrated and Peter showed no signs in moving things along. Although they talked all of the time during meals, and Peter went out of his way to make Stiles feel like an equal, he still felt like his more mature boyfriend was in charge.

Ugh.

Stiles wanted to turn his brain off but it was caught in a feedback loop of uncertainty and he was too tired to break it.

His phone rang. Peter. “Hi, I thought you were at work?”

“I am. I’m working second shift and I wanted to talk to you before you went to bed.” Peter’s words made Stiles feel warm and fuzzy. Maybe he’d been wrong about their relationship.

“Oh yeah?” Stiles prompted.

“Yes, I did some research on Donovan Donati.” Stiles deflated with Peter’s reply; so much for their relationship progressing.

Stifling the sigh caught in the back of his throat, Stiles made a noise that he hoped Peter would interpret as interest. 

“Did you know that Donovan’s father was on the Beacon County Sheriff’s Department and was partnered with your father at one time?” No, Stiles did not know this.

Before he could confirm his lack of knowledge, Peter plunged onward. “The senior Donati was shot in the spine on the job and paralyzed. Young Donovan was in a motorcycle accident on his way to the hospital to see his dad and suffered some injuries himself. In any event, that young man seems to have some major anger management issues.”

Stiles snorted at that. “Yeah, I think anyone who has been in contact with DD could confirm that.”

Peter cut through Stiles’s amusement. “Stiles, I want you to be very careful around him. Don’t let him get you one-on-one.”

Oh, that didn’t set right. Not that Stiles planned on putting himself in that situation, but that Peter thought Stiles couldn’t defend himself if needed. Sure, Stiles’s first line of defense was usually his gift of gab but he was the son of a law enforcement officer and knew how to fight as a last resort. 

He stifled all of those feelings though, gritting his teeth against the tide of unhappiness. “Thanks for the information. I’ll let you get back to work. Good night.”

Stiles ended the call on Peter’s softly spoken good night.

Great, he’d probably pissed the other guy off. Tomorrow he would care about that but for now Stiles thought about going to the campus gym and working off some of his own aggressions.

Unfortunately Stiles didn’t have time for that if he was going to make some headway on his outline. Suddenly the topic of aggressive behavior in both non-shifters and shifters struck a chord and Stiles decided to see if that led anywhere for his dissertation.

-0-

Stiles’s phone rang—Peter—but he ignored it.

He didn’t ignore it because he was still upset with Peter’s lack of faith in him. He ignored it because Donovan Donati had managed to pin him against the bathroom wall.

Stiles had vowed to be more on his situational awareness game but he’d needed to pee after three cups of coffee. Simple biological needs were going to his downfall.

“I’ve been watching you.” Donovan had his forearm over Stiles’s throat and his eyes were stone cold as he growled his threat.

“I’m aware. Life must be pretty boring for you if watching me is the best amusement you’ve got going for you.” Stiles’s mouth shot out a response before his brain filter kicked in.

The pressure against his larynx increased. Donovan was not a fan of Stiles’s brain-to-mouth filter, or lack thereof.

“You think you’re so smart but you’re nothing but a smart-mouthed punk ass. I’m going to enjoy chewing you up and spitting you out.” Okay, so Donovan’s opening gambit hadn’t been a threat, more like a statement of fact. This was definitely a threat.

Stiles’s shoved his fist—leaving his limbs unaccounted for was a major mistake on Donovan’s part—into the guy’s solar plexus. That made his opponent loosen his hold and stagger back.

While Donovan was recovering his breath, Stiles broke away and exited the bathroom. Unfortunately that had been the last class of the day on this floor of the building and no one was around. 

Before he could hit the exit and dart down the stairwell, Donovan grabbed his backpack and his forward progress halted. Stiles slithered out of the straps; he didn’t want to lose his laptop or notes but they could be replaced and it was much more important that his limbs be unencumbered at the moment. 

The backpack hit the wall with a solid crack and Stiles ignored it, whirling around to face Donovan. He didn’t dare turn his back on him.

“So what kind of fighter are you, Stilinski? Are you going to hide while you call for help like your old man did instead of getting your hands dirty?” Donovan’s teeth shifted in his mouth. 

It was disconcerting as Stiles hadn’t realized the other guy was a shifter. Although watching the other guy closely, Stiles had no idea what kind of shifter. 

Stiles could make out a double row of what looked like sharp fangs when Donovan opened and closed his mouth in a chomping gesture. He wasn’t exactly freaked out—he’d seen some interesting shifters while in Beacon Hills—but he was definitely formulating a plan on how to keep away from those fangs.

Donovan advanced on him and there was nothing clandestine about his approach. He seemed to bulk up before Stiles’s eyes and he planted each foot with gusto.

Perhaps it was time to extract himself. “I’m not above getting my hands dirty.” With that Stiles’s right leg lashed out and connected with Donovan’s most vulnerable flesh, right between his legs. “Or feet.”

Not wanting to waste an opportunity, Stiles used his leg to sweep Donovan’s out from beneath him while he was busy doubling over and clutching his crotch. Stiles didn’t particularly like resorting to fighting dirty but the other guy had some physical advantages and Stiles’s goal was to make it out of this in one piece.

“Stiles!” 

Huh. Peter to the rescue again. Except not really because Stiles had the situation well in hand.

Or at least he had it until Peter had distracted him. While Stiles had turned his head to get a glimpse of his boyfriend, Donovan had clambered to his feet.

The first inkling Stiles had that he was in trouble was the horrified look on Peter’s face when he sprinted down the hallway toward him.

The second was the sharp pain radiating from the join between Stiles’s neck and right shoulder.

Peter had partially shifted and as Stiles fell to his knees, his boyfriend did the same, pulling Stiles to his chest. “I’ve got you.”

“Donovan?” Stiles panted out. The pain radiated from the point of contact outward so that everything ached when Peter jostled Stiles closer.

“Gone. I’ll take care of him later. Let’s see to some of that pain and then I’ll have a look at the wound, see if you need a doctor.” Peter’s voice was hard but his hands were gentle.

The pain didn’t disappear but it became more manageable beneath Peter’s magic touch.

“I’m sorry I distracted you.” Peter murmured next to Stiles’s ear.

The werewolf pain drain was flooding his body with endorphins and Stiles felt high. 

“Hey, Stiles, are you still with me?” Peter leaned away and Stiles immediately missed his warmth.

All of those years Stiles had maintained he could go it alone but having someone to comfort him…this was really special.

“Uh, huh.”

“I’ve got to say, you’ve got some moves. You definitely had the better of him until I showed up.” Stiles lapped up Peter’s words of praise. 

So often Stiles was acknowledged for his brain—the pack’s man with a plan—but he could also protect himself and others when pushed.

Right now, leaning on Peter, seemed more important than proving he was some sort of tough guy.

Peter pushed the material away from the sore on his back. “I think I can clean this out. Can I take you back to my condo?”

“Your condo?”

“Yes, Stiles, my condo. Maybe I should take you to the ER after all.” Each word had been enunciated like Stiles was a simpleton but Peter was back in front of him, staring into his face, brow crinkled.

“No, I’d rather go to your condo. I didn’t think you wanted me there.” Oops, either the endorphins or the adrenaline crash had removed what little filter Stiles had.

Peter helped him to his feet, keeping an arm around his waist solicitously. “I wasn’t looking for a relationship with a human but you’re unlike anyone I’ve ever met. I wanted to take things slow, I didn’t want to scare you off. I guess I was waiting for some sort of sign from you.”

Stiles groaned and Peter immediately stopped moving. “What is it? Do you need me to carry you?”

“No, I can walk. I was just thinking about how I’d been obsessing that you didn’t find me attractive.” There was that lack of filter issue again. Stiles didn’t necessarily want Peter knowing he was so insecure.

Turning him until they were chest to chest, Peter brushed his lips first across Stiles’s forehead, then his cheek. He ended at Stiles’s parted lips. The kiss was gentle, really just a slight sweep of moist tongue, but it went a long way to reassuring Stiles. “Oh, Stiles, attraction isn’t an issue. Now come on, I want to disinfect that wound and make you comfortable.”

That sounded…surprisingly nice.

Stiles forgot about his troubles with Donovan and relaxed into Peter’s strength.

Tomorrow he could be strong again. For now he was going to luxuriate in Peter’s attentions.

Getting knocked out and waking up with this man had possibly turned out to be the best thing that had happened to Stiles.

At least now he felt like he could let his guard down, even if it was just for one evening.

 

Finis

**Author's Note:**

> We saw some minor relationship woes and BAMF!Stiles as I moved through more exposition and hit some rising action. 
> 
> I'm rather surprised by the number of kudos the first installment received so if you read this fic, thank you and I hope it didn't disappoint.


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